


In Any Other Life

by moonmoth (greyvvardenfell)



Series: Fictober 2019 [1]
Category: The Arcana (Visual Novel)
Genre: F/M, Gen, Mild Language, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-01
Updated: 2019-10-01
Packaged: 2021-03-02 04:47:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,494
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23569297
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/greyvvardenfell/pseuds/moonmoth
Summary: Reyja and Julian spend a moment together during their work on the Plague.
Relationships: Apprentice/Julian Devorak
Series: Fictober 2019 [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1696495
Comments: 3
Kudos: 10





	In Any Other Life

**Author's Note:**

> For the Fictober prompt: “You can’t give more than yourself.”

“Doctor?”

Julian jumps, rattling the inkwell on his desk as he slams his knees into the underside of it. No one else should be here, given the hour. He’d long lost count of how many times he forced himself to his feet to refill the lamp oil only to sink back into his chair, hands dragging through his hair as if he could pull some sort of answer up from the roots. His frantic scribbles, darkening page after page after crumpled page, hold nothing but dead ends and false leads, and more die every day.

“Doctor Devorak, can I come in?”

He recognizes the muffled voice now. How could he not? It’s _her_. Reyja. Of course: the only other person on his staff who seemed as comfortable with the long nights as he was. Even this was late for her, though. What was she still doing here? There were no patient families around to counsel through their grief, and even the dying seemed quiet for the moment. She should be resting, away from this hellhole, keeping herself safe… oh, god, he hopes she stays safe.

“I know you’re in there, Julian, and I know you’re not asleep. I just wanted to make sure you’re… I just need to know you’re alright.”

When _was_ the last time he slept? That he can’t remember is, in itself, telling. Come to think of it, when did he last eat? Or bathe? Or speak to someone without scarlet sclera, who wasn’t barely hanging on to the last threads of their life? He swivels out of his chair before he can think himself down and takes the stride-and-a-half across his cluttered office, stepping over a stack of books from the Palace library, to throw the heavy door open. Reyja has already started up the hall away from him, one hand on the back of her neck in defeat, but she looks around at the sound of the turning knob with a small smile lifting the corner of her mouth.

“Reyja,” he says simply. He doesn’t have another word for all he wants to tell her. There isn’t one, he thinks. Not in any language he knows.

“You look awful.” She scans him with such concern that he feels his heart quake. “Come on, we’re getting out of here.”

She almost takes his hand. He would have let her, begged her to, if they had been anywhere else. If this had been any other city, under any other circumstances, in any other life, he would have fallen into her arms without a second thought. But not here. Not now. There’s just no _time_. He knows it and she knows it and so there’s nothing to say.

But he can’t, won’t, stay away.

Reyja leads Julian out of the maze of offices and exam rooms, forbidding him from checking on this patient or that stock of medicine as they pass. “We won’t be gone long,” she promises. “Besides, that’s why the orderlies are here. You’re not leaving anything unattended.”

“Of course, but—”

“We’re just going to get some dinner and fresh air. An hour at most. It’ll be okay, Julian. It’ll all be okay.”

 _In any other life…_ “Okay.”

Fall is beginning to creep into Vesuvia, but summer still lingers, holding tight to the seaside as sun-warmed stones and drying flowers. 

“Do you, ah, do you want your coat?” Julian asks, pausing beside the clinic’s back door to grab his own from its hook.

“Nah. I like the chill.” She smiles up at him.

For the first time in hours, he feels his stomach stir. It isn’t hunger that brought it to life again. He won’t say what it is. But he smiles back. It’s the least he can do. 

“Where are we going?” he asks as they push out into the night. He holds the door open for her, admiring the way the light of the moon glints off the buttons of her uniform, the strands of her short brown hair, the curve of her cheek…

“I thought we could walk for a bit and see if anywhere’s still open. Or I have some stuff at home, if you’re hungry now.”

At home? Her home? Him? “Oh, Reyja, I couldn’t possibly intrude like that.”

“Does it really count as an intrusion if I invite you?” She tosses the words over her shoulder, walking off towards the main road.

“I… no, I suppose it doesn’t. Still—”

Oh, the way she laughs! He will not say what makes his stomach tilt like that. He can’t. But he knows the word. He knows the word in every language. “Rey!”

“What? Don’t rebuke me, I’m in a good mood.” She’s almost skipping down the street, turning around to look back at him.

“Oho? And why’s that?”

She stops and waits for him to catch up, something new casting a shadow over her eyes. She cocks her head and looks at him sidelong as her smile falls. “I think you know why.”

 _In any other life, in any other life, in any other life…_ “Reyja—”

“I know.” The ground between them must be inscribed with words he cannot read, for how hard she’s staring at it. “Thank you, for coming out. I know how hard it is to keep track of things for yourself when there’s so much else to worry about. I just wanted to make sure you were, well, doing that.”

His hands feel clumsy, like they’ve been cut off and reattached to the wrong wrists. Running the diagnostics in his mind says that the only cure is to wrap his arms around her and never let go, to weave his fingers with hers and plant kisses on every knuckle, to touch her with all the reverence and worship she deserves— He snaps off the thought. “I, ah. I’m not sure I was ‘doing that,’ as it were. Like you said, it’s… hard. To waste the time.”

Her eyes fly to his. “It’s not a waste to look after yourself! You’re pushing so hard. Days without sleep, without food. You sit at that desk for hours and hours and hours without moving, your back must be a mess! I hate it! I hate seeing you treat yourself like that.”

He finds himself flushing in embarrassment. “I- I’m sorry. I didn’t realize—”

“What, that someone was paying attention?”

“The plague isn’t going to wait for me to eat some soup and have a nap. While I can keep going, I have to.”

“Until you run yourself into the ground?” Reyja puts her hands on her hips and raises an eyebrow, staring him down.

Julian shifts and tries, unsuccessfully, to avoid her gaze. “If that’s what it takes.”

“So you would rather martyr yourself than take a break once in a while?”

“That’s not what I meant!”

“If I hadn’t come to your office tonight, when would you have left it?” 

He can’t answer that. She folds her arms across her chest and plants her feet, scowling. 

“You’re killing yourself, Julian. I’m not just going to stand by and let you do it. Do you really think I’d be able to hold it together if I had to—” Her voice cracks and she quickly looks away. “—if I had to be the one to go through all the business of dying with you?”

In every scenario he’d pictured, she was always the one in danger. Tears spring to his eyes as he witnesses her struggle to hold back her own.

“There’s so much death here already. So much. Every day there’s more. Not just in our clinic, but in all of them, all over the city. You know that as well as I do, if not better. You taking ten minutes to eat, six hours to sleep, a half-day to go home? What does it matter in the face of everything else?”

“But if even one patient dies…”

“Because you were making sure you were fit to save twenty more? A hundred? Sharpening up your brain to find a cure so no one ever dies from this fucking thing ever again? You’re not a god, Julian. No one expects you to sacrifice yourself.”

He’s quiet a beat too long. “I do.”

Reyja’s eyes soften at that. Under any other circumstances, she would have kissed him. “I know. But listen: a single lost life won’t turn the battle one way or the other, unless the general dies. You’re the general here, and you have to take care of yourself before you can take care of anyone under your banner. Alright?”

Julian sniffles, but offers a bleary smile. “Alright.”

“Good. I’m gonna hold you to that, whenever I have a minute. You’d better leave me notes when you duck out, telling me where you’ve gone. I’m the best one here at reading your chicken scratch, so you won’t even have to try to make them legible.”

_If only we had more time…_

“Now, let’s find some dinner.” 


End file.
